Tall, Dark... Collection. Кэрол Мортимер

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СКАЧАТЬ but the more she had thought about it the more convinced she had become that her parents had behaved very strangely on Saturday after Jacob Gardner’s name had been mentioned. Her call to them this morning had been an effort to reassure herself that they hadn’t—only to have the phone ringing and ringing their end, remaining unanswered.

      ‘I’ll call them back later,’ she dismissed now, not wanting Nick to realise how troubled she was.

      ‘Maybe—’

      ‘Nick—Hebe. I’m sorry to interrupt.’A slightly breathless Jane approached them. ‘But you have visitors.’

      ‘Just put them in a room somewhere and I’ll be out shortly,’ Nick said, with obvious impatience.

      ‘Actually, it’s Hebe who has visitors,’ Jane corrected awkwardly.

      ‘I do…?’ Hebe’s eyes widened in surprise.

      Jane nodded. ‘They say they’re your parents—’

      Hebe didn’t wait for the other woman to finish, and turned sharply on her heel to hurry from the room, not knowing whether Nick followed her or not—although she thought he probably would.

      She had no idea what her parents were doing here, of all places, but at least she now had an answer as to where they had been this morning…!

      CHAPTER TEN

      NICK’S long strides easily caught up with Hebe’s shorter ones as she left the gallery, and he was at her side when they reached the huge marble entrance hall where Jean and Henry stood waiting.

      He felt glad that he was there when he saw the strain on the older couple’s faces, more sure than ever that the disquiet he had felt on Saturday had been justified.

      ‘I hope you don’t mind, Nick?’ Jean said anxiously, even as she clasped both Hebe’s hands in hers. ‘We need to talk to Hebe. To both of you,’ she added softly.

      ‘If we could go somewhere—less public?’ Henry prompted quietly, as half a dozen people passed them on their way into the gallery.

      ‘Mum? Dad?’ Hebe frowned her concern as she looked at them both. ‘What’s wrong? Has something happened?’

      ‘We just need to talk to you, darling.’ Her mother squeezed her hands reassuringly. ‘We—have some things to explain.’ She looked pained at the admission.

      ‘We’ll go upstairs to my apartment,’ Nick decided briskly. ‘Hebe?’ he prompted pointedly, as she made no effort to move, her face pale as she looked searchingly at her mother.

      Jean, he could easily see, was under extreme emotional pressure. Her eyes looked red and tearful; her face was as white as Hebe’s.

      Whatever was going on here, Nick intended being at Hebe’s side when it happened. Whatever it was!

      Hebe could feel her tension rising with the lift as it ascended, wondering if what her parents needed to talk to her so urgently about had something to do with Jacob Gardner.

      She knew that Andrew Southern must have received her letter and photograph by now, and that even though she had given him the address of her flat, and the number of her mobile if he should want to contact her, there had been no response from him.

      She was disappointed—deeply so. But if her parents could tell her something about Jacob Gardner that would at least be something.

      Although she wasn’t at all happy at the stress her parents appeared to be under…

      ‘Here we go.’ Nick led the way into his apartment.

      Their apartment now, Hebe supposed, wondering if her parents had tried to contact her at her old flat before coming here, and been surprised when Gina told them she had moved out. She had thought to save that little piece of information until her parents came to London for the wedding, deciding there was no point in their knowing before then.

      Little had she known they were going to surprise her with a visit.

      ‘You look as if you could do with something to drink, Jean?’ Nick frowned. ‘Henry?’

      ‘Perhaps a small glass of brandy,’ her father accepted gruffly.

      To Hebe’s knowledge her father only ever drank brandy when he was sick or worried about something; looking at him, at both her parents, it was easy to see that this time it was the latter.

      ‘What’s wrong?’she prompted again, once the drinks had been poured and they were all seated in the sitting room.

      Her mother gave a shaky sigh. ‘We should have told you at the weekend,’ she said, flustered. ‘Your father wanted to tell you then.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘But I begged him not to. I see now that he was right all along—that we should have told you years ago.’ She shook her head sadly.

      ‘Told me what?’ Hebe pressed anxiously, her tension increasing by the second.

      Nick moved to stand behind Hebe’s chair, quietly supportive—whether she wanted his support or not.

      Which she probably didn’t, he accepted heavily—but she was going to get it anyway!

      ‘About your mother,’ Henry said, taking charge of the conversation.

      ‘My—mother…?’ Hebe repeated slowly.

      Hebe’s mother? Nick repeated too, inwardly, having been sure that this conversation was going to be about Jacob Gardner after Jean’s reaction to his name at the weekend.

      What did Hebe’s mother have to do with Jacob Gardner?

      Besides which, hadn’t Jean and Henry assured him on Saturday that they had no knowledge of Hebe’s mother?

      No…he suddenly realised. What Henry had actually said was that the name of Hebe’s father had never been mentioned…

      Nick had thought the other man’s reply ambiguous at the time. Now he realised why!

      ‘What do you know about Hebe’s mother?’ he prompted harshly.

      ‘Please, Nick.’ Hebe turned to him pleadingly. ‘Let them—let them tell this in their own time.’

      She had a feeling she knew at least part of what her parents were going to say, as she was sure now that they had known of her mother’s connection to Jacob Gardner all along—if not to Andrew Southern. They probably knew her name too.

      Hebe had no idea why they would have kept such a thing from her, as they had always been so open about everything else, and had brought her up to be the same way. They must have had a good reason for not telling her about her mother. And, having seen the portrait, with its overt sensuality, she could perhaps guess what that reason was.

      ‘You asked about the medical history of Hebe’s real parents on Saturday, Nick,’ her father reminded the younger man ruefully. ‘I told you then that we had no idea. I wasn’t exactly truthful. We really don’t know anything about Hebe’s real father.’ His voice hardened slightly. СКАЧАТЬ